me time! It was superb, but then
that was nothing compared to the glory of receiving it from Blucher!

Then there was more wine and story-telling, and at last some asked to
look at the snuff-box again.

"Has any one the snuff-box at present?" asked his lordship, rather
anxiously, for as he turned to reach it no snuff-box was to be seen.

No one said "yes," for everyone was sure he had passed it to his
neighbor, and they searched up and down the table with consternation in
their faces, for the snuff-box could not have disappeared without hands,
but to say so was to touch the honor of gentlemen and soldiers.

At last one of the most famous officers rose from his seat:

"My lord," he said, "a very unlucky accident must have occurred here.
Some one of us must have slipped the box into his pocket unconsciously,
mistaking it for his own. I will take the lead in searching mine, if the
rest of the company will follow!"

"Agreed!" said the rest, and each guest in turn went to the bottom of
one pocket after another, but still no snuff-box, and the distress of
the company increased. The old soldier's turn came last, and with it
came the surprise. With burning cheeks and arms folded closely across
his breast he stood up and confronted the company like a stag at bay.

"No!" he exclaimed, "no one shall search my pockets! Would you doubt the
honor of a soldier?"

"But we have all done so," said the rest, "and every one knows it is the
merest accident at the most." But the old soldier only held his arms the
tighter, while the color grew deeper in his face. In his perplexity his
lordship thought of another expedient.

"We will try another way, gentlemen," he said, "I will order a basket of
bran to be brought, and propose that each one in turn shall thrust his
hand into the bran. No one shall look on, and if we find the box at
last, no one can guess whose hand placed it there."

It was quickly done, and hand after hand was thrust in, until at last
came the old soldier's turn once more. But he was nowhere to be seen.

Then, at last the indignation of the company broke forth.

"A soldier, and a hero of Waterloo, and willing to be a thief!" and with
their distress about the affair, and his lordship's grief at his loss,
the evening was entirely spoiled.

Meantime the old soldier, with his faithful cloak wrapped closely round
him once more, was fighting his way through the sharp winds and over the
moors again. But a battle again